I Love the Rain
by EyesLikeAJungle
Summary: She left behind the one she loved most taking a constant reminder with her, the other one she loves most.


**Hi! Im new here and i have posted this at the FC among others but i thought i would give it a shot here as well. this is a one a shot...an elongated one i suppose. and i hope yall like it and reviews are always welcome! and ill have some more stories to post as well.**

**This RnR btw, my favorite to write about. :)**

**happy reading!**

**Disclaimer:i stake no claim. **

I love the rain. The sound of it hitting the trees and the roof; I love watching the drops on the window as they race each other down the glass or collide into one another causing the most silent of crashes. I love the smell that it leaves behind. Everything smells fresh and new, ready to grow and change from its previous state. I want to be like rain: relaxed, radical, redolent. I step out into the falling water from the apartment and put my arms out. The drops are cool on my hot skin and as I move I can feel them roll on my body. My soaked clothes cling to me loosely, like two sleeping lovers. Love… I try to clear my head. I take my own thought too literally and tilt my head to the sky until my ear is flat against the muggy air. The beads of water fall into my ear. My hearing dims to my liking. The world is silenced and all I can hear is the rolling of the small wave against my eardrum. I smile and close my eyes in content. The rain picks up and I lay myself down in the moist grass. I dig my nails into the green blades, ripping up chunks, releasing them, and repeating this consistently. I lick my lips and open my mouth wanting more of the refreshing flavor. The coolness soothes my burning throat. I hear nothing but the wind and the rain hitting multiple surfaces. It's the sweetest kind of quiet. But in a matter of minutes, that sweetest kind of quiet is brutally interrupted. A whining cry fills my ears, bouncing around my eardrums frantically. I squeeze my eyes shut and once more grip the ground that's surrounding me; my poor attempt to ignore the sound and its source. Knowing my obligation to the noise, I unwillingly release my hold on the slippery grass and push myself up. I carefully and slowly walk back into the apartment, climb up the stairs, and open the door. I stare into the dark room and my eyes fall on the source of the noise. For awhile I just stare not sure what to do. I slowly move over to the crib holding the one person a woman should treasure most: her child. A child, such a large part of her and her other-half put into such a tiny being. A woman's baby should be her pride and joy; she should beam at the mention of her name. For me it was the complete opposite. I internally cringe at the sound of her name, instead of my pride and joy she's my timidity and doubt. I'm timid at the thought of raising her on my own in a country where I can't even speak the language; I'm doubtful I can ever look at her without my mind wandering to the past. She's all I have left of my other-half and with her large, pleading, puppy dog eyes she's a constant reminder of everything I threw away.

I tuck the blankets around her even tighter trying to keep her dry and warm from my soaking cold self. Her eyes are bright and wide as she stares up at me. She makes incoherent noises and nothing has ever sounded so melodic and bitter at once. Her small hand pokes out of the blanket as she reaches up for me. I place my index finger in her tiny hand; she grips it tight and rests it on her small chest. I move to the rocking chair caddy corner of the crib. I watch her, she watches me. I remove my finger from her small palm and begin rubbing her face. I hum a random tune hoping to lull her to sleep so I won't have to stare into those familiar eyes anymore. When her eyelids don't budge, I close mine instead. _How pathetic,_ I think,_ I can't even look in my own daughter's eyes_. I gain the nerve to look back at her but she's sleeping. I sigh in relief as I bring my lips to her forehead. I move to put her back in her crib and before doing so I squeeze her small figure into my larger one. I feel her chest moving evenly against my raggedly moving one. Her light breath tickles my neck and her heart beats against mine. I smile painfully as I wrap her in a new blanket and lay her back down. I stare at her a little while longer thinking that the longer I stare at her the more I won't miss him; my small figure pressed against his larger one, my head evenly rising and falling on his chest, his breath on my neck when he smells my hair and our hearts beating together in sync after we just made love. After I realized my efforts were useless, I left the nursery shutting the pink door behind me. I walked down the hall and turned into my room. I didn't bother going through my nightly routine. I put on some dry shorts, my (or his) "Frankie Say Relax" t-shirt and climbed into bed. I closed my eyes. There he was. I opened them and looked at the spot next to me. I wished he was there. I stared at the ceiling thinking he would leave me but I swore I saw him above me. I was going insane. The t-shirt smelled like him still. His scent filled my nose. It was sweet but the memory burned. I looked back at the empty side of the bed where he should be. I closed my eyes. There he was. I blindly reached to the spot where his body should rest. I was expecting to touch the face that encompassed my mind's eyes. Instead it hit the soft cotton fabric of the pillow. When my hand hit the pillow a whole new feeling of loss consumed me. I curled up under the sheets coming to a full realization that he's not here; that I'm gone. He'll move on, I'll move on. We're over. In the back of my mind I could only hope that he was doing and thinking the same, and that I'm not the only lonely person in this fucked up scenario.

An incessant ringing woke me from my sleep. Keeping my eyes shut, my hand blindly searched out for the telephone on my night stand. Once it was in my grasp I hit the talk button to shut the obnoxious sound off. "Hello?" I groaned trying to sound as annoyed as possible.

"Rach?" My eyes shot open. It was him… My him. But it wasn't his voice. The sweet, soft tone was thickened with tears and dripped with depression. I should say something…

"Ross," I breathed out his name. I missed the way that his name fell so naturally from my lips. He didn't respond. All I could hear was static but I knew he was there. I could feel him. I made myself as comfortable as possible in the unfamiliar bed.

"I need you," his voice was firm with an undertone of weakness. I didn't want to think of him and what I've done to him. Then I heard him break. Sobs escaped from those lips that I've kissed over a thousand times and traveled through the telephone. "Come home, please. Come home," I can't do this- I can't listen to his tears and his pleading. I suddenly realized that I was crying. My throat grew so thick that I struggled for air. I held onto my t-shirt to help calm myself.

"Ross," I closed my eyes trying to gain some self-control and composure. "I can't," I clutched the phone tighter waiting for his response.

"Fine," and he was gone. I refused to hang up. I refused to let myself believe he wasn't with me. I clutched the phone to my chest like it was the only hold I had on him. I felt like I was going to fall apart without him holding me. I wrapped an arm around my torso and imagined that it was his. That he was behind me sleeping soundly and soon he would wake up and we would make love all morning until our daughter woke up.

I dreamed of what my life would be like right now had I stayed. We'd probably be engaged by now and I'd be planning our wedding- the one day I was always certain would come. I imagined our first dance, our first home, our second child, us growing old together, and dying together so that it would never be just him or me but him and me together- just like how we were always linked to one another. I could have the life that I always thought I would have, but I gave him up again because of work.

There it was again. That whining cry coming from my own personal infinite reminder of what I left behind. With phone in hand, I walk into her room. There she is with his eyes staring me down. I pick her up and hold her in my arms, cooing sweet nothings into her ear as she continues to wail into mine. Five minutes pass and her screams only get louder. I know what she wants, the one thing I can't give to her. How am I supposed to give it to her, when I can't even allow myself the same thing? Her body starts to thrash and I feel her tiny fists pound against my back while her small feet kick me in my stomach. I can't do this. Hastily, I set her down into her crib and glare at her. My eyes finally comprehend what they see and I breakdown. The sight of her pink tear stained cheeks and blood shot eyes is enough to make me want to die. I did this. I reduced a happy one year old into a depressed child.

I can't do this. "Shut up," my voice slips out barely above a whisper. "Shut up!" my lungs burn and I fall to the floor and cry. Guilt slowly creeps up my crumpled figure.

I woke up in ball on my daughter's floor. My body aches from the lack of a mattress and pillow. I wipe away the dried tears around my eyes, and sit up trying to gain some awareness. My eyes move over to my now silent baby lying peacefully in her crib. I force myself up to go and watch her sleep. She's lying on her back, her tiny two year old arms and legs sprawled out. Soon she'll want a "big girl bed." Just another thing he will have to miss. I run my hand through her fine, silk hair and watch her breathe. A bittersweet smile creeps over my face as I see her scanty eye lids flutter open. "Hi, sweetie," I coo softly. To my enjoyment she giggles sweetly back at me. Her small arms reach toward me and I gladly accept. Her arms wrap around my neck tightly. I kiss her hair and head towards the kitchen. With every step I take she begins to feel heavier and heavier. I breathe in her scent hoping it will bring me some sort of comfort. I find none. "Ok sweetheart! How 'bout some cheerios?"

I set her on the floor and opened one of the cabinets pulling out a box of cereal. "Where Daddy?" My heart broke all over again. Guilt, gall, gloom, and giddiness consumed me all at once. I turned around and knelt down in front of my daughter unable to look at her in the eye.

"Emma," I occupied my fingers with the zipper on her purple footy pajamas. How am I supposed to explain this to a two year old? "Are you still tired?" She nods her round head and I open my arms. She enters my embrace and I carry her back into my bedroom. Laying her down in the bed; I climb in beside her and pull her small frame as close as possible to me. After only a few fleeting seconds I feel her wiggle out of arms.

"Right back," her voice is still light and raspy from just waking up. I solemnly watch her toddle out the door, not surprised that I let her leave my side so easily. She was him. She jumped back onto the bed and curled up beside me. But she wasn't alone. She cuddled a stuffed bright orange T-Rex to her chest. It's too much. I sit up and bury my face into my knees. I have absolutely no will to fight back my tears, and my goal to stay strong for Emma has already vanished. "Mommy?" I feel her small hot hand press against my back. I turn around and shamelessly look at her with a tear stricken face. She stares at me, taking in what is supposed to be her mother. She lays herself back down on the pillow and opens her small arms up to me. I lay myself down in her small embrace. My ear listens to the beating of her heart and I'm reminded as to why I haven't put an end to me yet. Her tiny fingers run over my hair and my cheek in an attempt to soothe me and I can't help but think this should be the other way around.

Slowly her heart beat, and sweet breath against my face lulls me to sleep and I can only hope that I can hold on long enough.

"Mommy," I wake up to a small warm hand lightly beating on one of my cheeks. I lift my head off her chest and stare up at her delicate features through half opened eyes. "Hi!" her voice bounces around cheerfully and I can't help but smile.

"Hi baby," I lean up and lay kisses all over her face until I hear her giggle. I roll over onto my side and I just stare at her detecting every part of her that is distinctly him. I run a finger over her cheek, feeling her smooth baby skin under my own.

"Why you crying?" Her round eyes stare at me with curiosity as she squeezes her dinosaur close to her chest.

"Because," I say with a heavy sigh, "Mommy really misses Daddy."

"Where is Daddy?" she asks rolling onto her side to face me.

"He's back home. In New York," I answer as sweetly as possible trying not to show any emotion I was feeling.

"Why?" what is it with this kid and her asking so many damn questions suddenly?

"Because, Emma, Mommy is very, very stupid," her eyes widen and she takes in a short gasp.

"We don't say that word. It's not nice," she says in disbelief. She's so adorable it hurts. How could I deprive him of her?

"I'm sorry, honey," I say trying to hide that laughter that is bound to break through my lips at any moment.

"It's ok," and for a while we just lay there in silence. I watch her as her eyes wander around the room. My mind of course goes back to him: I remember waking up to him in the mornings. Usually he would just watch me sleep until I woke up; sometimes he would make me breakfast; other times he would kiss me awake.

"Mommy?" her voice breaks me from my thoughts.

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

"Can I talk to Daddy?" My heart drops. Her small voice sounds so innocent as if she were oblivious to the angst of the whole situation. At the same time she sounds so sad. My heart shatters again. I hesitate- if she talks to him that means I would have to eventually. I thought I could use the excuse of time difference but I can never tell her "no." She's my greatest weakness.

"Of course," slowly I go and retrieve the phone from her room. I hear her small feet padding behind me quickly to keep up. I pick up the phone and dial his number slowly. The dial tone is ear piercing. When he wasn't answering my fear slowly shrinks away at the possibility of getting his machine. I could never be that lucky though. Not when it comes to him. And like clockwork he picks up.

"Hello?" his voice is heavy with sleep. I contemplate hanging up. He would never know it was me. But when I feel Emma's small hand tug mine and see her hopeful expression, hanging up is no longer an option.

"Hi, it's me," no answer. "Umm Emma- she uhh wanted to talk to you so I'll just put her on," I dropped down to her level and put the device up to her ear.

"Hi Daddy!" She chirps. I haven't heard sound that happy in weeks. My face falls and I watch her wander down the hall while she babbles on about the latest episode of Dora. I settle myself on the floor in her room and take the stuffed dinosaur in my hands. I stare at it blankly and the only thing that registers in my mind is his face-his dark hair, his brown eyes lined with thick lashes and gorgeous eyebrows, the lines of his face that all lead to those perfect pale pink lips, his long thin nose, all resting on tan skin.

"Daddy wants to say 'hi'," my thoughts are broken by the phone being uncomfortably pressed into my ear. I take the phone and adjust it against my ear.

"Thanks Em," I wait a bit before saying anything and listen to his breathing on the other end. "Hey you," as soon as the words leave my lips I quickly regret saying them.

"Hi," I can hear the smile in his voice and all regret is gone.

"You wanted to talk?" I nervously ask.

"Um yeah. Rachel, I can't do this anymore," panic slowly sets in. What does he mean? He can't do this anymore? What is it exactly that he can't do?

"What do you mean, Ross?" I successfully keep my voice steady and walk down the hall into the living room.

"I can't do…us anymore. It's just too hard being away from you, from Emma. Rach, I'm done," his voice is flat and free of emotion. He can't be serious.

"What?" is all I'm able to utter through my thick throat.

"It's over, Rachel."

"God, Ross, no, please," my hands start shaking and I can barely breathe. It's never been over, he and I are NEVER over and we aren't going to start now.

"Rachel-"

"Ross no! Please don't do this! Think- think about Emma, think about yourself, think about me! About us! We can't just-" I can't speak anymore. I wasn't expecting this. I thought he was calling to tell me to come back home again, or to ask to come here. Or to just tell me he still loves me; anything but this.

"Rachel, all I have done since you left is think about Emma and me and you and us. I ca-"

"I love you!" I blurt out. His end is silent. "I do. I love you so much, Ross. I can barely even look at Emma because she reminds me of you and everything we were and everything we could have been. When- when she cries now it's not because she's hurt or she wants me. It's because she wants you and I don't know what to do because I can't give her to you. I hurt our child because I was selfish. I feel hopeless without you. Please just don't do this. I'll do whatever you want. Please I just…I love you so much," my throat burns and my vision is blurred.

"I can't….I'm sorry, Rach," he hangs up. He's gone. For good. I throw the phone against the wall and let out a scream. I break down once again and lay myself on the couch. I pull my knees to my chest as sobs shake me. I wrap my arms around me, afraid that I'll literally fall apart without him. It's over…his words burn in my ears and he has never felt so far away.

Over; the word keeps flashing in my head. What about Emma? Emma. I push myself up from the couch and go into her room. I spot her sitting on the floor playing with her dollhouse knowing it's the closest she'll get to having a real family. "Emma, sweetie, are you hungry?"

"No," she doesn't even bother to turn around.

"Ok well I'll be in the kitchen if you need me."

"Ok."

"Emma?"

"What?"

"I love you," I watch her small body turn around to face me, a wide grin painted across her angelic face.

"Love you too, Mommy," she says in a happy tone with naivety. For a moment I wish I was her-so blissfully unaware of the long term absence of my best friend, my lover, her father. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. I robotically walk into the kitchen and force myself to eat cereal. It tastes different over here. Everything here tastes different. I hate it.

The rest of the day I lay in bed with the door closed. Shutting out the world but only leaving it cracked for my daughter. I replay memories of me and him from high school to when I ran into the coffee shop in a wedding dress to when he asked me if he could ask me out and everything from there on out. Everything seems so much clearer now. His behavior around me, his unreasonable hatred towards Palo now has a reason, I think of everything. I wish he never would have divorced me. I easily could have fallen in love with him, it doesn't take much. But now he's at home falling out of love with me, or worse- wanting to fall out of love with me. I continue torturing myself with the memory of him before my eye lids droop over sending me into an infinite darkness with numerous possibilities.

I'm dreaming. I'm in New York, in Joey's apartment in my old room. I feel someone lie down next to me. I crack my eyes open and see him- brown orbs and all. I smile and open my mouth to say something but he shushes me with his lips. They feel so real against mine. "Go back to sleep," he whispers. I do as I'm told and close my half open eyes. Just as sleep is about to take me over I feel his arms wrap around me. It feels too real. I lose it and a tear falls down through my shut lid and down my face knowing in the back of my mind that when I wake up he'll be the one in New York.

I love the rain. The sound of it beating against my window pane; it's the only familiar sound here that's comforting to me. With my eyes still closed, I try to will myself to go back to sleep. I turn to face the window hoping it will make the rains pounding louder to sing me to sleep. I reach over to the other pillow imagining his face in my mind like the night before. But this time instead of a cotton pillow, my hand touches smooth skin. I open my eyes and see his staring back at me. "Hey you," his voice washes over my ears.

"Ross?" I ask unsure, my fingers trace his face memorizing it just in case he disappears. He nods his head and presses his lips to my palm.

"It's nice seeing your eyes. You've been out since I got here yesterday."

"Ross?" I'm still unsure. He leans his head forward and captures my lips in his. I sink into him pulling him a close as possible, feeling his skin underneath mine. I part from him and when I open my eyes he's still here.

"I'm here, Rach."

"But…you-you said we're…over," the word burns as it slides up my throat and through my lips.

"No, we aren't," he pulls me into him and I cling to him.

"I love you. I love you so much," I murmur against his chest.

"I know you do. I love you too," I revel in the feel of his hand stroking my hair.

"Please don't leave me," I beg.

"Never."

So we lay there for the rest of the day in our bed with our door closed. Shutting out the world but only leaving it cracked for our daughter. Every issue we once had has now silently been resolved. I replay memories of me and him then try to think of the new ones we'll be making together. Everything is so much clearer now. My eyes are no longer blurred with tears of anguish, my throat is not sore and tight, and my heart no longer beats mechanically but fiercely from his breath falling lightly over my cheek.


End file.
